


A Good Night's Sleep

by ALMartin1011



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Awkward Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, F/M, Nightmares, PTSD, Smut, The Avengers Are Good Bros, but only in chapter three, except it's her lady bits, flirting via baked goods should absolutely be a thing, magical healing dick type of resolution, meet cute, regardless Bucky finally gets some damn sleep in the end, soooo magical healing snooch?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:21:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22852432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALMartin1011/pseuds/ALMartin1011
Summary: Bucky has been plagued with nightmares since he left HYDRA and the Avengers all have been trying to help him overcome them. Bucky meets you by chance on a coffee run and finds that the solution he was avoiding might be exactly what he needs.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Comments: 13
Kudos: 150





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovelies! This idea was from a sweet friend over on Tumblr. I absolutely couldn’t get it out of my head and so, while I should have been working on my many WIPs, this little fic was born. Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. XOXO - Ash

“Come on, Buck.” Steve calls out while banging on Bucky’s door, “You gotta wake up, pal.”

Bucky wakes with a jolt, his body rigid and his throat sore from screaming. He’s panting hard, trying to adjust to the world around him. He pulls himself out of bed on shaky legs, wobbling down the hall to open the door right as Steve goes to knock again. “Sorry. Again.” he rasps. 

“Want to come get a cup of tea with me?” Steve offers with sympathetic eyes.

“Nah, I’m gonna grab a shower. Go back to sleep, Stevie.” 

“You know you can talk to me about it if you want to.” 

“I know. I’ll be okay.” Bucky insists, closing the door to end the discussion. 

Under the burning hot spray of the shower Bucky lets himself breakdown. 

After Wakanda Steve had convinced Tony to let him live at the tower with the rest of the team and everyone had been leery of the former assassin joining their ranks. As they slowly came to know him though, he became a welcome addition to their little family of Avengers. The only issue was the nightmares that woke not only Bucky, but everyone else on their floor. Bucky hadn’t slept through the night since he escaped HYDRA, plagued with visions of the destruction he’d wrought as the Winter Soldier. It was an endless stream of death and terror every night when he closed his eyes. When he was on his own in Romania he’d accepted it as his penance for what he’d done. After Shuri and her team pulled him out of Cryo in Wakanda he hadn’t been hopeful the nightmares were gone along with the trigger words. And he had been right - they persisted. 

Bucky warned Steve when he invited him to live at the tower with the team. He told him he had nightmares and was prone to have low days where he just needed solitude to work through his own mind. Steve had promised he’d have his own living quarters and the team would understand. They all had their demons, afterall. The team was very understanding the first days but after that the concerned glances turned to long, worried looks and the team started speaking up.

Bruce had been the first to speak up, suggesting therapy to help him work through what was causing his nightmares. Bucky went and as much as he liked his therapist, nothing they tried stopped the nightmares. Even the meds blew through his system too fast to be of any use. She did give him some good tips for managing his PTSD and depression during the day though, so Bucky considered it a win and still went to see her once a week. 

Nat gave him a spicy Russian tea she swore would knock him out enough that no dreams would come. Nat was wrong, all Bucky got out of the tea was heartburn. She grumbled something under her breath in Russian that sounded a lot like “ _cursed_ " the next morning over breakfast. 

Steve took him for a long run before bed one night, thinking the endorphin high and exhaustion would help Bucky sleep soundly. It helped Steve sometimes with his own dreams of war. It didn’t help with the nightmares, it only made him more exhausted the next day after getting little sleep. 

Tony offered to get him drunk but it would take entirely too much alcohol to overcome the serum in his veins so he declined the offer. 

Wanda suggested she try popping in his mind while he was having a nightmare to see if she could reshape it and try to correct whatever in his mind was causing him to have the dreams. Bucky threw up at the idea of someone meddling in his mind again.

The care and suggestions from the team were sweet, and Bucky knows they have the best intentions at heart, but it’s all still a little overwhelming. Bucky wants to stop having nightmares, he would do anything to sleep for more than three or four hours a night. A small part of him still thinks it’s punishment from some higher power for everything he’s done, but rationally he understands it’s just his PTSD. 

After his shower, Bucky trudges out to the team kitchen for coffee. If he isn’t going to sleep he might as well start on his caffeine routine. Sam is already in the kitchen whipping up a smoothie for himself while Natasha stares at him over a cup of tea, the human embodiment of heart eyes on her face. 

“Mornin’.” he rumbles as he crosses the kitchen, rummaging for his favorite cup in the dishwasher. 

“Another bad one, huh.” Nat asks, but it really isn’t a question.

“Yeah, sorry.” 

“You’ve got to figure these out, James.” 

“I know it.” 

“I know what you need.” Sam interjects causing both Bucky and Nat to whip around to stare at him. Sam just shrugs, “You need to get laid, man.” 

Bucky chokes on his coffee. “What?” 

“You. Need. To. Get. Laid.” Sam repeats slowly. “Seriously, man. Find yourself a nice girl, or a guy, and get some. You’ll be all happy and cosy and you’ll nod right off. No nightmares if you’re wrapped up in the arms of a good woman, or man.” 

Bucky shakes his head, the last thing he needs is to terrorize some poor person trying to spend the night.

“It’s not a bad idea.” Nat agrees.

“Not happening.” Bucky says with a warning tone. He fills his cup and retreats to his bedroom, unwilling to continue the conversation. Adding another person to his mess of a life is not the solution. 

Sam’s suggestion spreads through the team like wildfire. Everyone seems to have a friend they could set him up with. Tony even hacks into his smartphone and adds apps for Tinder, Grindr, and Match.com. Bucky deletes them quickly before chewing Tony out about privacy rights. It becomes a bit of a running joke within the group and Bucky is less than thrilled about it. Bucky hasn’t had a date since 1941 and he isn’t sure how to navigate dating in the 21st century. He knows the times have changed, people are more free with their sexualities and casual relationships are normal instead of taboo. Eventually, he thinks, eventually he’ll get back out there. But certainly not just for the sake of random sex. 

Bucky has another particularly rough night. One where he doesn’t dare sleep because the second his eyes close the images start up like a motion picture. He’d spends the night alternating between pacing and reading, trying to not be disruptive while everyone else sleeps. Sam and Steve get up for their run just before dawn and find him pacing in the common room. 

“Did you sleep at all?” Steve asks him.

“I will later. Probably.” Bucky grumbles. 

Sam shakes his head, “Let’s go get coffee. You look like hell.”

Bucky can’t argue with that and instead goes to grab his shoes with a nod.

The city is bustling despite the early hour and the line at their favorite coffee shop is almost to the door. It’s worth the wait though and Bucky likes the thrumming energy of the shop, the blur of muted sounds around him oddly comforting. The woman in front of them is fidgeting with her leather bag, it must have something heavy in it the way she keeps adjusting the strap on her shoulder. Bucky tries not to let his gaze linger too long but the way her long hair falls in soft waves all the way down to the small of her back is distracting. The even softer looking rounded curves of her body are even more distracting, he admits to himself. She reminds him of the women in Renaissance paintings, when lush curves were still revered, before these modern stick thin bodies became the ideal. Bucky wishes the Winter Soldier could go back and pay a visit to whoever started the “thigh gap” craze. 

The woman adjusts the leather strap again and a small white card flutters out onto the floor behind her. Bucky reaches down to pick it up, noticing the card has business information on it. Sam and Steve are chatting and distracted when Bucky taps the woman on the shoulder, “I think you dropped your business card.” he says hesitantly. 

You’re cursing yourself for lugging everything along with you in your enormous bag when you feel a tap on your shoulder followed by a warm masculine voice. You absolutely do not have business cards, you’re a freelance writer and market yourself entirely online. It has to be another pick up line, probably from some smarmy Wall Street asshole who wants to slum it with an artsy girl for a change. You’ve been burned by that type enough times and won’t let yourself do it again, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve had a date. “Does that line work a lot for you?” you reply, turning around with an unamused expression. 

Bucky’s face falls, upset he’s offended you when all he was trying to do was return what you’d dropped. “I wasn’t. I don’t. You. Um, you dropped this. It fell out of your bag.” Bucky fumbles for words, blushing brightly and drawing the attention of Sam and Steve who wear twin smirks of amusement watching him flounder. 

Your irritation dissipates when you see the gorgeous, stuttering man in front of you. He’s tall, though not quite as tall as his companions, his dark hair falls around his shoulders in a way that is either true bedhead or carefully crafted styling to mimic it. His grey blue eyes are wide and honest, clearly not some smarmy pick up artist like you’d assumed. He’s wearing a black hoodie and dark grey sweatpants so it’s unlikely he was the business card type either. You force yourself to stop ogling the poor man and look at the tiny card in his outstretched hand. Recognizing it immediately, you realize **you’re** the asshole in this scenario. “Shit, that is mine.” you curse, “I’m so sorry. I don’t usually have business cards but my friend gave me this one yesterday for a new bakery that went in over on 2nd Avenue.” 

Bucky looks at the card for a second before you take it from him. “So you’re not Beth Yardley?” 

You raise an eyebrow at him, wondering if that’s now a ploy to get your name. You really need to be less suspicious but after living in the city for five years you’ve become jaded. He’s cute though. “Nope, Y/N. Nice to meet you…?”

“Bucky.” he offers quickly.

The name doesn’t ring a bell, but he looks familiar for some reason. “Nice you meet you, Bucky. Thanks for saving that card for me. I’m dying to try these cinnamon buns my friend keeps raving about.”

Bucky is smiling again, hoping his face doesn’t betray how eager he is to keep the conversation going. He wasn’t trying to hit on you a few minutes ago but now that he’s seen your face and heard your voice, he sure as hell is. “I love cinnamon buns.” 

You stifle your laugh at the way his cheeks burn bright pink after his admission. He has to be flirting at this point. And he really is cute. Damnit. “We should go try them, then.” you decide, giving him a chance to make a move. 

Bucky feels like he’s swallowed his tongue, “As in, together?” 

“Yeah, sorry if I wasn’t clear. This is _me_ hitting on _you _/ now.” you smirk at him as his blush spreads.__

__Sam is leaning on Steve as they fight for composure, trying not to erupt in laughter and ruin their friends moment. Bucky glares at their backs for a moment before realizing he still hasn’t answered, “Yeah. Yes. Let’s do that.”_ _

__Getting a better look at his companions you realize why he looks so familiar. _Of all the people to meet in a coffee shop_ , you muse. You’re still interested though. “Are you free after this? I was going to get my coffee to go and then head straight there for breakfast.” _ _

__“I’m free. These idiots can find their own way home.”_ _

__“Great. Now, the deciding factor is: icing or no icing? Think hard Bucky, there are two camps of people and if you fall into the wrong one I’ll be forced to shame you for all eternity.”_ _

__Bucky’s eyes widen, worried he’s going to mess up two seconds into what could potentially be a date. “Icing?” he tries._ _

__“Right answer!” you announce him happily. Then, in a conspiratorial tone, you whisper, “It wasn’t really a deal breaker but it’s good to know you’re not some sugar hating monster.”_ _

__Bucky’s grin widens, “No, I have a serious sweet tooth.”_ _

__“We’re gonna get along just fine.” you assure him._ _

__After you order your coffee, _quad shot latte with whole milk don’t judge me_ , and Bucky orders his, _the biggest white mocha frapp you have please_ , you swipe your card before he has a chance to get his wallet out. Bucky balks at you paying but you tell him he can get it next time with a flirty smile that has his brain shutting off, unable to continue complaining. _ _

__Steve and Sam give Bucky small waves and thumbs up, not interfering when Bucky leaves with you. “Your friends seem nice.” you say kindly as you step out onto the busy city sidewalk._ _

__“They’re the best.” Bucky agrees with a nod._ _

__You make idle chit chat on your way to the bakery, keeping the topics light and superficial. Bucky tells you he grew up in Brooklyn, moved away for a bit, and recently moved to Manhattan with his friends. He seems hesitant as he explains it and you realize he’s trying to not be obvious about who he is. Like you couldn’t have already guessed._ _

__You snort a laugh into your latte. “So what was Brooklyn like in the 30s?” you ask bluntly._ _

__Bucky’s eyes practically bug out of his head, “How did you…?”_ _

__You give him a half smile and shrug, “The hand is a good clue, plus your face was everywhere for a while. It doesn’t help that your best friends are Captain America and the Falcon.”_ _

__Cringing, Bucky figures this will be the end of his almost date. “We don’t have to go get breakfast. I’ll understand if you don’t want to be seen with me.”_ _

__You stop in the middle of the sidewalk, shocked by his response. “Whoa, hold on. I knew who you were before I asked you to join me. I don’t care what other people think about you or your past. You seem like a nice guy and I want to get to know you. The real you.”_ _

__Bucky takes a moment to process your words, finding it hard to believe someone is willing to look beyond his past. He can’t find a shred of deceit in your expression though, so he answers your question. “Well, there were less cars and it smelled worse if you can believe it.”_ _

__You huff out a laugh, resuming your walk to the bakery. “I can’t. Tell me more.”_ _

__Bucky tells you stories of the Brooklyn of his youth as you make your way across town. You aren’t in a hurry and Bucky is happy to spend extra time out in the warm sun with a beautiful woman._ _

__The bakery is a little glass fronted shop sandwiched between two larger brick buildings. You would have walked right past it if you hadn’t been looking for it. Bucky opens the door for you and you smirk, amused by the old fashioned gesture. The scent of vanilla and caramelized sugar hit you the second you’re inside. “Oh my god.” you groan the amazing smell._ _

__Bucky’s steps falter at the sound you made, trying desperately not to let his mind go where it was headed. “This place smells amazing.” he says, inhaling deeply._ _

__“It had better taste as good as it smells or I’ll riot.” you joke._ _

__The line is short and before you know it, Bucky is ordering two iced cinnamon buns plus an assortment of other pastries he picks at random out of the display case._ _

__“Are we feeding an army?” you question as the tray piles higher and higher with plates of baked goods._ _

__“Sorry,” he blushes, handing over his card to the waiting cashier, “Um, my metabolism is pretty high and I have to keep up with it or I get cranky.”_ _

__“Ah, okay. No hangry super soldiers on my watch.”_ _

__Bucky chuckles and nods._ _

__There’s a sunny spot in the window of the bakery with an unoccupied cafe table, Bucky motions towards it and it’s your turn to nod, following him over to it. The tray takes up most of the table and you perch your coffees on your respective sides, eager to dig into the spread in front of you. You go for the cinnamon bun first, knowing one of them is yours and not wanting to presume you’ll be trying any of the other treats._ _

__The taste of caramelized sugar and cinnamon explode on your tongue, eliciting yet another moan that makes Bucky fidget in his seat. “Okay, that’s it. I can die happy now.” you announce dramatically._ _

__Bucky takes a swipe of the icing off the top of his cinnamon bun and his eyes widen slightly. “Oh wow.” he lifts the entire bun up to take a large bite and closes his eyes happily as he chews. “This is incredible.” he says once he’s swallowed, quickly taking another large bite. His cheeks puff out adorably and you grin around your own bite of cinnamon bun._ _

__“I can’t believe you just bite it like that.” you tease._ _

__“Well, what else am I supposed to do with it?”_ _

__You demonstrate the way you’ve been peeling yours apart from the outside in, “You uncoil it, like a normal human being.”_ _

__“Takes too long.” Bucky scoffs, “My way is faster.”_ _

__“But then it’s gone. My way you can enjoy it more.”_ _

__“Pfft. I enjoy it plenty, and I would have time for two of them while you eat just one.”_ _

__“Not all of us have super soldier metabolisms, one bun is enough.”_ _

__Bucky looks at the four other plates on the tray and shakes his head, “Then I guess it’s good to be me.”_ _

__You laugh at his antics as he takes another big bite, smiling while his cheeks chipmunk out again. The look you’re giving him almost makes him swallow wrong. He knows this look, he remembers it from the dance hall girls in the 30s. Attraction. Desire. You’re flirting with him in your own, unique, modern way. And Bucky is shocked to realize he’s been flirting back. He didn’t intend to get back out there so soon but here he is, enjoying breakfast with a beautiful woman. He wonders if you’re the type who would appreciate being asked out on a date, or if you’d rather exchange numbers and call him up when the mood strikes. A booty call, Sam had called it. Bucky still doesn’t get how there’s such a big difference between a booty call and a butt dial but thankfully Sam had corrected him when he got the reference wrong._ _

__Bucky finishes his cinnamon bun and starts in on a vanilla bean scone, enjoying the way the light glaze crackles as it gives way to the soft, buttery dough. You’re still enjoying your bun, about half way through, so Bucky tears the other pointed corner of the scone off and deposits it on your plate. “It’s really good.” he insists, not wanting you to miss out._ _

__You glance from the bite of scone up to Bucky who’s looking at you hesitantly like he’s waiting to see if he’s done something right or wrong. You pop the bite of scone into your mouth, chewing slowly before nodding, “Yeah it is. Thanks.”_ _

__Bucky practically beams. Maybe he can figure out 21st century flirting. He’s not sure if flirting via baked goods is a thing or not, but it absolutely should be. Bucky methodically works through all of the plates on the tray, offering you bits of each different item. You snag two bites of the cream puff but decline when he offers to buy you your own. The conversation shifts to the best meals you’ve had in the city. Food is an easy common ground for you both. You explain to Bucky that the small town you grew up in was pretty limited restaurant-wise and you’ve tried a lot of different places since moving to the city. You’re great in the kitchen but some days, after spending hours alone working at home, you like to get out and around other people for a while._ _

__“There’s an Italian place, Sapori, near the tower you would love.” Bucky tells you, “I don’t know what the big deal about the place is but Stark always gets reservations when we’re celebrating something. They make everything from scratch and it’s damn good. There’s these little pillowy pasta things. Starts with a g but you don’t pronounce it. I don’t know, but they’re amazing.”_ _

__“Gnocchi,” you say, stifling a laugh._ _

__“Yeah! Those. Best meal I’ve had in the city by far.”_ _

__“That’s only because you haven’t had the food at Xián Tián.”_ _

__“Well, you should let me take you to Sapori and then you’ll understand.”_ _

__“Did you just ask me out?” you raise your eyebrows at him in surprise._ _

__Bucky blushes and nods, suddenly feeling more shy. “Yeah. I did. This is _me_ hitting on _you_ now.” he says, paroting your words from earlier. _ _

__“Well done, Barnes. When are we going?”_ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky finally gets you out on a date and you both find yourselves falling fast.

Even with Tony Stark’s connection it takes a week to get a table at Sapori. Bucky hates the idea of waiting that long to see you again but is appeased by intermittent bursts of texts. He’s noticed you get lost in your work for hours at a time and then will do nothing but text back and forth with him for a while until you get distracted and lost in your work again. It’s sweet how much you love what you do and Bucky makes a point to read a few of your works. He’s impressed by the way you illustrate details in your writing, the way it makes him feel like he’s experiencing things for himself through your words. You screech happily to your cat when Bucky tells you that and you reply that it was the best compliment you’ve ever received. 

The night of your date you pull out all of the stops, your best jeans and blouse that are just suggestive enough while still being classy. You let your hair dry naturally, letting it do it’s thing creating natural waves. Your makeup is minimal but you choose a dark, bold pink that makes your lips pop, emphasizing their size. It helps play off the way the jet black mascara makes your eyes seem a little larger too. You give yourself an appraising once over and decide that Bucky Barnes isn’t going to know what hit him. 

Across town, Bucky can’t get his life together. Or so Sam says while he and Steve chuckle at Bucky’s growing distress. “Be serious guys!” he complains at his so-called best friends. Bucky is wearing his nicest black jeans and is holding out two sweaters, one pale blue and one charcoal grey, at them to help decide.

“Grey.” Steve chooses finally.

“With your black leather jacket.” Sam adds. 

Bucky lets out an exasperated _thank you_ , relieved they finally helped.

He pulls on the sweater and approves of the way it brings out the grey in his eyes. His hair is left down and it curls around his shoulders in a way he hopes looks artful instead of messy. There’s just enough time to grab his shoes and get out the door and he hurries past Sam and Steve with a more heartfelt thank you thrown in this time.

The lobby of Sapori is packed when you arrive. You’re fifteen minutes early, you found an Uber faster than you had expected, and you don’t feel like waiting outside for that long until Bucky arrives. Instead, you shoot him a text that you’re there and you’ll be waiting at the bar. You’re past the point in your life where you look at alcohol as liquid courage but it would be nice to have a drink to unwind a little while you wait. You flag down the bartender and order your usual drink, chuckling to yourself softly when you realize the irony of it. Bucky should get a kick out of it too.

After rushing past an obscene number of slow moving pedestrians, Bucky needs a minute before entering the dimly lit restaurant. He’s sure he’s sweating right through his clothes and his hair is sticking slightly at the nape of neck. The sweat isn’t from exertion, it’s just nerves. The man who took on HYDRA is petrified of sharing dinner with a beautiful woman. _Oh how the mighty have fallen_ , he berates himself. Smoothing out his clothes and fixing his hair one last time, Bucky takes a deep breath and pushes through the revolving door. 

It takes his eyes a minute to adjust to the low lighting but once they do, he’s searching for you immediately. He finds you standing at a hightop table by the bar, a lowball glass in your hand, reading something intently on your phone. Bucky freezes as he takes you in; you’re stunning and he suddenly feels like a schlub. Your dark jeans are molded perfectly to your body, emphasizing the curves of your ass and thighs. The cream colored blouse drapes around you like gossamer, highlighting your figure without being clingy, the neckline low enough that it promises a hint of cleavage if you move _just right_. And god help him, Bucky prays you move just right at some point this evening. 

“What are you drinking?” Bucky asks when he finally approaches you.

You look up at him, pleasantly surprised to see him a few minutes early. “An old fashioned.” you say with a smirk.

Bucky chokes out a laugh. He can’t keep up with your wit, always unsure if you’re joking or serious. “You like old fashioneds, huh?”

Your smirk widens, “They’re my go-to drink. Though they seem a little extra appropriate now.” 

“Well, even as a living antique, I can honestly say I’ve never tried one.” 

“You’re missing out, old man. Let’s go fix that.” You step over to the bar, signaling the bartender who comes down and with a second drink for you. You hand over the glass to Bucky, anticipation written on your face. If he hates it you won’t mind drinking another but you’ll have to pace yourself. 

Bucky sips the drink, realizing it’s just whiskey with a little sugar and a sliver of orange. It’s mostly whiskey though. “It’s good. Not sure what’s old fashioned about whiskey, but it’ll do.” 

“They’re actually older than you. Back in the late 1800s the only cocktails were sugar, bitters, and a dash of water added to some type of brown liquor. As the times changed, newer more elaborate cocktails were invented and the varieties were endless after that. The older generation didn’t care for the new cocktails going around so they would order an old fashioned cocktail, the kind they were used to. After a while the name stuck and now we have old fashioneds.” 

Bucky stared at you, amazed. 

“And thank you for coming to my TED Talk.” you say with a self deprecating laugh. 

“Sorry. I’m just. I’m impressed is all.” Bucky makes a mental note to Google what a TED Talk is later. He knows you’re making light of your knowledge but it was damn impressive to him. 

“Nah, I just took a mixology class a few times for fun. I can also make a mean s’mores martini.” 

“You’ll have to show me sometime.” Bucky checks his watch and realizes you’re now five minutes late for your reservation, “Ready to go eat? I should at least let them know we’re here.” 

“Yeah, let’s go.” 

Bucky leads the way, the crowd clearing for him naturally due to either his height or the width of his black leather clad shoulders. He’s an impressive specimen of man and you’re still a little floored that he’s here with you. Talking to him has been so easy, almost like old friends, and you forget most of the time that he’s not just a cute guy you met at a coffee shop, he’s Bucky Barnes: super soldier, former assassin, current Avenger. 

The maitre d’ shows you to your table, a secluded little spot in the back, and Bucky adds _thank Tony Stark_ to his mental to-do list. The table is far enough removed from the rest of the main dining room that he won’t feel overwhelmed by the large number of people, his back is to a wall and his sightlines are clear. He couldn’t have picked a better table himself and it helps his nerves relax just a little bit more. Bucky wants the date to go well but part of him, the part his therapist keeps telling him to not validate, reminds him it’s only a matter of time until he screws something up. 

A tall, thin, man in a well pressed uniform arrives a moment later, before Bucky can even try to rekindle your conversation. He deposits a basket of warm fresh bread and fills your water glasses from a carafe. After reciting the specials of the day he disappears as quickly as he arrived. 

“We’ll have to get another basket of this when he comes back.” Bucky tells you while taking two thick slices out of the basket. He layers on the butter, careful to leave you half but still enjoying himself immensely. “They make the bread and the butter themselves” he says with a dreamy smile.

You laugh lightly, taking a piece for yourself, “You really love it here, don’t you?”

Bucky nods, taking a bite of his bread.

You scan the menu while you chew. Bucky was right, you’re definitely going to need more of the bread, it’s incredible. The menu is simple and filled with long standing Italian classics. You’re tempted by the gnocchi since Bucky spoke so highly of it, but the chicken picata sounds good too. You tell Bucky as much when he asks what you’re going to have and he laughs. “Just get both, that’s what I do.” 

You shake your head, “Yes, but you can eat two entrees. I can’t.” 

“That’s what leftovers are for. Come on, get both. Tonight’s on Tony’s dime anyway, he owed me.” 

“Tony Stark owed you dinner at Sapori?” you ask in disbelief.

“No, he owed me a favor, period. He’d be down another Iron Man suit if it wasn’t for me. A dinner out is a lot less money and hassle than a new suit, so don’t feel too bad for him.”

You stare at him a moment, his life is so surreal. “Okay, fine. Two entrees it is. Thank you, Mr. Stark.” you raise your glass in salute before taking a sip.

“Now, how do you feel about appetizers?” Bucky asks, flipping through his menu. 

If the waiter is shocked by the mass quantity of food you’ve ordered he hides it well. You’re looking forward to trying a little of everything and having days worth of leftovers to enjoy. Bucky is working his way through the second breadbasket when the waiter deposits your appetizer, a large platter of fritta. It’s a mix of vegetables and seafood, all deep fried in a light, crispy batter. Various little pots of sauces are set around the platter, enticing you to try the different combinations.

Bucky is the perfect dinner companion. He is always willing to share bits of this and that, able to keep an interesting conversation going, and the quiet lulls feel natural instead of awkward. You learn about his childhood and family, about all the things he’s enjoyed since coming out of Cryo, and the the things he still wants to do with his life. Bucky’s approach to life is this irreverent enthusiasm that you can’t help but get swept up in. Yes, he’s lived through unspeakable horrors, but he’s not letting it define him and you admire him more than words can say. He’s also an engaged listener, asking you questions about your life and your job as a writer. The fact that he took the time to read some of your work still blows your mind and you can’t hide the way a blush spreads from your cheeks all the way down your throat when he starts talking excitedly about an article you wrote on the impact of social media on mental health. 

By the time the waiter brings the check you’re both still picking at the remnants of your tiramisu, unwilling for the night to end. There’s a heaviness to the air that wasn’t there before, brought on by the impending goodbye. You don’t ever go home with a guy on the first date, nor do you invite them back to your place. You don’t see anything wrong with it, you just never felt compelled to rush into bed with a guy. Until now. But Bucky isn’t a modern man, and he likely won’t even think to initiate anything beyond a goodnight kiss. You wish he would though. 

The conversation had shifted to one of Bucky’s many loves: engineering. He is endlessly fascinated by the robots in the Stark lab. Tony insists they’re just hunks of junk but Bucky still makes trips up to the lab to visit them; teaching them to make different types of smoothies and how to play catch with him. Bucky is trying to keep the conversation going, not willing to say goodbye just yet. He wants the night to stretch on forever, a perfect idyllic bubble where he can laugh and relax with someone who understands him. You’re the first person he feels like he can open up to in over seventy years. 

“Why don’t you come back to the tower with me and see for yourself?” he offers after you laugh and question his story about teaching Dum-E how to dance. 

You pause, fork halfway up to your mouth, wondering what his intentions are.

“You could meet Dum-E and then I could show you the night sky projector I was telling you about.” 

“The one on your bedroom ceiling?” you ask, fork still in mid-air.

“Yeah, from the planetarium.” 

Oh Bucky Barnes, sweet innocent nerd that he is. You’re fairly certain the offer is benign but you can’t resist riling him up a little. “Bucky, are you inviting me back to your bedroom to see your projector, or _see your projector_?” You raise your eyebrows suggestively, hitting your point home.

Bucky chokes on his sip of cappuccino, cheeks flaming red. “Oh. I didn’t. I wasn’t thinking. I would never assume.” he fumbles, helplessly. “That really came out wrong, didn’t it?” he asks finally, exasperated with himself. 

Your grin is broad and understanding. “It’s okay.” you reassure him. “I didn’t think you meant it that way. And I don’t typically go home with a guy on the first date either. But honestly, after tonight, if something were to happen I wouldn’t mind at all.” 

Bucky swallows nervously. Once. Twice. _Get it together Barnes!_ He clears his throat roughly before responding with a voice he’s proud doesn’t waiver, “Well then let’s head back and see where the night takes us.” 

You never thought he’d have the nerve. Hallelujah for his new found confidence. “Let’s.” you agree. 

Bucky leads the way back to the tower he calls home. It’s a short walk, only a few blocks away, and you take your time, discussing the differences between modern Manhattan and the New York Bucky grew up in. The Avengers Tower, formerly Stark Tower, rises up from the concrete like a monolith, looming over the rest of the buildings on the block. You never expected to see the inside of it and as Bucky activates a body scan from the access panel you’re more than a little nervous. The scan runs quickly and a warm British voice announces, “Welcome back, Mr. Barnes. I see you’ve brought a guest.” 

“That’s Jarvis,” Bucky explains, “Took me a while to get used to him, but he pretty much runs everything here at the tower. Jarvis, this is Y/N. She’ll be with me but give her basic clearance just to be safe.”

“Can do, sir.” Jarvis replies, seemingly all around you. “Miss, if you could please hold still I will run a biometric scan for your clearance.” 

You’re not sure where to speak, looking upwards out of instinct, “Okay, sure.” The beam runs from your head down to your toes just like it did for Bucky and you do your best to hold still. Bucky is smirking and you’re sure he understands how odd the advanced tech is to you.

“All set, Miss. You will have basic access to the common rooms, main door, and I’ve added Mr. Barnes’ private quarters as well.” 

“Thanks Jarvis.” Bucky says before holding his hand back out to you, “Ready to go meet my robotic friends?”

You laugh lightly, “Sure, why not.” 

Bucky leads you up to Stark’s lab where Dum-E and U are busy tidying up bits of charred shrapnel from the floor. “Hey guys!” Bucky calls out as soon as you’re in the lab. The pair of silver robots abandon their dustpan and broom, hurrying over to Bucky. They’re making excited whirring sounds with their gears and you assume this means they’re happy to see him. “Now fellas, I brought a friend to meet you.” he tells them, and both robots turn their top arm pieces in your direction. It’s odd that you feel like you’re being inspected even though they don’t have eyes or faces. “Her name is Y/N and I expect you two to be on your best behavior.” 

“Hi guys.” you say with a small wave. 

The robot on your right, U, comes over, the top (or end?) of it’s long arm reaching out as if to shake. You look at Bucky questioningly and he nods. You’re not sure what to expect as you reach out towards the robot but it quickly takes your hand between it’s three metal flaps, moving it up and down rapidly as if to shake it. You can’t help but be charmed by the polite little robot. It makes a few tinny sounds and you say “It’s very nice to meet you too.” hoping you’ve guessed it’s intentions correctly. It’s whirring noises start up again and it rolls away quickly, it seems happy enough with your response. The other robot, Dum-E, rolls over to repeat the awkward shake and makes a similar series of noises after you greet him. 

Bucky is grinning ear to ear watching you. It means a lot to him that you’re willing to entertain his love of robotics and the two little guys he’s grown so attached to. “How about we show Y/N what we were working on last week?” he asks them and both robots raise and lower their arm piece as if to nod. Bucky whips out his phone, bringing up a song to put on, and then sets it up so that music plays from the speakers in the lab. The clear, ringing voice of Ella Fitzgerald fills the room declaring “It don’t mean a thing if you ain’t got that swing”. 

Bucky extends a hand to Dum-E who takes it with his little flaps like he had your hand. Fast and graceful Bucky spins the robot around the lab with him in perfectly timed swing dance steps. You’ve seen swing dancing before but never in person and certainly never with a robot. Dum-E does well keeping up with Bucky and halfway through the song U rolls over to butt in and takes Dum-E’s place. You’re amazed by the show, the way Bucky moves is so alive and joyous. You could easily watch him for hours. Being a clumsy child you doubt you could ever be an adequate dance partner for him but you wonder if you could learn enough for him to take you for a spin around the room. Maybe he would even teach you. It hits you that you’re already planning future dates, far into the future possibly. It’s foolish, you’re not even finished your first official date yet, but it’s going well and you can’t deny the connection you feel with him.

The song ends, Ella’s voice trilling off into silence, and Bucky gives you a cock bow. You clap for him and U who whirrs happily at the praise. “What do you think?” Bucky asks you as he crosses the room to your side. 

“Very impressive. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.” you tell him.

“It was easier than you’d think too. The guys really enjoy the classics and I missed dancing so it works out great. Do you swing?”

“Oh god no! I was one of those kids who tripped on their own two feet. Never tried learning anything more complicated than following a guy’s lead at slow dancing in the middle school auditorium.” 

“I think you’d be a natural. You just have to move with the music.” 

“No, really. I’ve fallen walking _up_ the stairs, Bucky. I’d break your toes.” 

“Pfft. You couldn’t so much as dent my pinky toe. But if you don’t wanna learn that’s okay too.” 

He looks so earnest and unsure that it’s your undoing. “Okay, maybe some other time you can try to teach me. But if you lose a toe it’s your own fault.” 

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take, doll.” He hits you with that megawatt smile and your knees turn to jelly. Damn him and that impossible charm that seems to seep from every pore. You’re no match for it and you suspect he knows it. Bucky takes your hands in his, tugging you close until your toes are almost touching his. That heaviness has returned to the air, like walking into a sauna. “You ready to go see the night sky projector?” 

You chance a look up at his face again and you’re amazed you’re still upright at this point. “Yeah, take me to your room now.” Your voice is low and Bucky has to steady himself a minute before leading the way down to the living quarters. It’s obvious the dance you two are doing now. He’s not sure if he’s ready to be intimate with you, or anyone really. Despite months of therapy Bucky’s still insecure about the scars that litter his body. He can barely stand looking at them himself, he can’t imagine it would be any easier for a stranger. But a part of him woke up when he met you in the coffee shop, and it’s only gained strength after a week of frequent texting and a so far perfect date. Bucky isn’t sure he could silence it now if he wanted to. A tiny spark has flared into a wildfire and all Bucky can do now is let it burn.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand here’s the smut you’ve all been waiting for :)

Bucky’s living quarters are larger than you expected. The common area; a spacious living room, dining room, kitchen set up, made you think that the individual rooms would be just that: a room only. What you find behind Bucky’s door is a small apartment of sorts. He has a kitchenette with a table to eat at, a living room, and two doors down a short hallway for a bedroom and bathroom. You follow his example, toeing off your shoes at the entryway, slightly amused by the sight of your ballet flats sitting next to his assortment of combat boots, sneakers, and the dress shoes he takes off. It’s so painfully domestic. The carpeting under your bare feet is thick and soft, you’re officially glad for his no shoes rule. Digging your toes in, you have to resist the temptation to lay down on the plush carpet. 

“Right this way.” Bucky motions to the door at the end of the hall. You follow him down to his bedroom where he flicks on a light illuminating the small space in a golden glow. “It’s not much, but it’s mine. I was thankful Steve got me a place here after everything that happened. New York has changed so much since I lived here last, but it’s still home.” 

“It’s nice. Mine isn’t much different, honestly.” You look around the bedroom that’s decorated in various shades of blue and white. There’s prints and posters framed on his walls, all depicting some type of space themed art. The bed against the far wall looks huge and soft, covered with a small army of pillows and a fluffy navy blue duvet. 

Bucky catches you staring at it and smiles, chagrined. “I might have gone a little overboard with the bed.” 

“You don’t say?” you tease.

“I really like having somewhere soft and warm to sleep. It’s nice after so many years of… well, you know. I didn’t realize how crazy it was until I was done. It started out buying an extra pillow so the bed looked balanced. Then I needed a duvet to keep warm and that came with decorative pillows. After that I found those fuzzy pillows over there that looked nice and then the ones with constellations on them. Within two weeks I went from a single pillow and a quilt to that. Once I spent a night in it I was done for, it’s amazing and I regret nothing.” 

“It looks amazing.” 

“The mattress is unreal too. Tony got these memory foam gel things for all the beds here, it’s like sleeping on a marshmallow. Here, get comfy and I’ll set up the projector.” 

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, the softness of the bed inviting after the long day you’ve had. Bucky moves around setting things up, making small adjustments to the device on his desk before finally going over to turn off the lights. The room is only dark for a moment before the ceiling lights up with a starry sky. “Lay back, you’ll get the most out of it that way.” he instructs as he joins you on the bed. 

You follow his lead, stretching out on your back on the bed next to him. Bucky’s hand slips into yours and entwines your fingers, waiting to see if you’ll allow it, and you do. He clicks a small remote in his other hand and the light show starts up. The ceiling is alight with simulated stars, rolling through the different major constellations and stars; each one lighting up before it’s name appears across it for a moment, then moving to the next. It rolls through the seasons as well, showing the different positions and constellations that appear based on the time of year. It’s magical in a way and you get lost in the moment. 

It can’t have been more than ten minutes and Bucky has been oddly quiet the entire time. You glance over, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He seems at peace watching the series of stars. You wonder how many times he’s watched the show before and if it always brings him peace. 

“About a hundred. And yeah, that’s why I bought it.” Bucky replies, making you realize you had spoken your musings out loud. 

“Sorry, that was supposed to be an ‘in my head only’ thought.” you give him a lopsided smile in apology.

“You can ask me things, that’s okay. I’ve always been fascinated by space and being able to see the night sky is something that grounded me. Even when I was the Soldier, I remember feeling better when I could see the night sky. Didn’t understand why at the time, but I did. I like how it’s always the same, no matter where you are, no matter how the world changes below it.”

“With everything that’s changed in your life, I can see how you would like that. Thank you, for showing it to me.”

“This is nice.” Bucky rubs a thumb across the back of your hand, a soft smile playing on his lips. 

You can’t help but stare at his lips a moment, you want to feel them on yours, against your skin. It’s still your first date and you resign yourself to maybe getting a quick kiss later if you’re lucky. 

Bucky notices your staring almost immediately. It would be so easy and you seem willing. He wonders what’s holding him back, what’s keeping him from taking what you’re freely offering. There’s always something that’s stood in the way of what he wanted. The financial crash of the depression, the war, HYDRA, recovering from seventy years of brainwashing, being an outlaw for a while, going back into Cryo. His life has been an endless stream of _if only’s_ and Bucky has had just about enough of it. He’s adapting to his life in the twenty first century, he has friends, a place to live, a sort of job, and enough money that he doesn’t have to worry about it for at least a hundred years. There’s nothing standing in his way anymore except for himself. Bucky props himself up on his elbow, leaving his hand entwined with yours. He looks from your lips to your eyes, waiting in silent permission. You nod, eyes locked back in on his lips, and he leans forward instantly. He’s done standing in his own way.

Bucky’s lips collide with yours, searing hot and insistent. You had expected him to be more hesitant but he’s pouring himself into the kiss and all you can do is hold on and keep up. He doesn’t let his hands roam, just exploring your mouth with his own while his body blasts heat like a furnace pressed up against the side of yours. You don’t bother reigning yours in, letting your free hand glide along the lines of his back and tangle gently in his hair. He lets out a throaty noise when your nails rake across his scalp and you make a mental note to repeat the motion later to see if elicits the same response. 

You can’t tell if the kiss has gone on for hours, days, or minutes. It’s all consuming in the best possible way and when Bucky finally pulls back you’re both breathing hard. “Um,” Bucky begins with a bright blush, tucking his head against the curve of your shoulder, “We need to stop. Or slow down at least.”

You furrow your brow, worried you’ve triggered some unpleasant memory for him by accident. “You okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, more than okay. I just… I don’t know how far we want things to go and I’m about to have a problem if we keep going like that.” 

“Oh.” realization dawns, “That’s okay. If you want to stop we can, or we could keep going and then I could help you with that problem when it arises.” 

Bucky shudders. He wants you, desperately. It’s liquid fire in his veins and he doesn’t want to keep ignoring his desires. “I think.” he starts and stops. “I think I’d like to keep going. If you want to.”

“Oh, sweetheart, of course I do.” 

Bucky resists the urge to preen at the endearment and you shift up to claim his lips with yours. Tangling your hand back in his hair you trail kisses down his throat, nipping lightly at the bow of his collarbone before trailing back up to his mouth. Bucky is a mess of over sensitization, your hands in his hair and your lips against his skin while your body curves against his so soft and beautiful. You can guess that it’s been a while for him, he had alluded to you being his first date since before the war during one of your text chats. He’s so responsive to your affection and you want to make it as good as it can be for him. Your favorite part of sex has always been figuring out what makes your partners see stars and Bucky is making it so easy for you. 

You run your hand down his chest, feeling the wall of muscles under his soft sweater, letting it rest a moment on his belt buckle before you start tugging the sweater up and off. Bucky helps you get it off him and then tentatively skims his hand along the neckline of your blouse. You pull your top off easily, willing to go tit or tat with him if gets you both naked quicker. You’re both fumbling with pants next, quickly depositing your jeans on the floor with your tops. 

Bucky looks pained as he looks down at your body, clad only in your powder blue satin lingerie. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” he whispers reverently as he kisses the tops of your breasts where they threaten to spill out of the cups of your bra. 

“You’re not too shabby yourself, Barnes.” you tell him affectionately. 

A chuckle rumbles in his throat and it reverberates against your skin. You let your hands continue their explorations, not really meaning to rush but you’re dying to get your hands on him. You ghost your palm across the front of his tight boxer briefs, getting the slightest feeling of the hard length straining under the soft fabric. Bucky’s hips stutter against the contact and he gasps hard. 

“That okay?” you check in, wanting to ensure you’re not moving too fast. 

“More than,” he rasps. 

You smile widely, pleased by his response, and let your hand slide over him again. 

Bucky thinks you’ll be the death of him as your hand presses against his aching cock, the pressure more intentional this time. He’s afraid he won’t last very long, he hasn’t been with anyone intimately since before the war and getting himself off pales in comparison to being with someone else. He hasn’t even done that all that much since thawing out. Bucky curses himself, he’s going to blow his load like a teenager before he can even ensure you enjoy yourself. For all of his bravado in his teens and twenties, he only had the occasional partner. Sure he could charm girls and guys alike but he was, at heart, a hopeless romantic. He knows what to do, but he feels inexperienced while you seem instinctively able to light his body up like fireworks.

Determined to make this about him, you slowly push against his chest so he’ll lay back and let you steer things for a bit. Bucky complies and you help him shimmy out of his boxer briefs once he’s on his back. From the gentle caresses over his clothes you had guess he would be gorgeous but the sight of him has your mouth watering. You exhale heavily through pursed lips, letting your excitement be known and Bucky has the good graces to look shy at the sound. This is going to be a stretch you feel for days. You slip your bra and panties off quickly, wanting to give him full access to your body like you have his. Bucky swallows thickly, thanking every god above that he met you. 

You carefully take him in hand, letting the silky heat of his erection slide easily against your palm. He’s holding himself rigid with tight control and you lean forward to kiss him again, wanting him to relax a little and just let himself enjoy this. Pre-come drips from the blunt head of his cock and his hips jerk involuntarily. “What do you want, sweetheart?” you ask him softly. He gasps but doesn’t respond so you try checking in again. “Do you want to just do this, or I could use my mouth. Or I could get on top of you, if you’re okay with going that far. I need you to tell me though.” 

Bucky shakes his head to clear his scattered thoughts. “I don’t think I could handle your mouth right now.” he admits honestly. He practically came at just the thought of your lips wrapped around him. “I want to be inside you. Please.” The request is breathy and desperate, a tone he’s not familiar with coming from his own mouth. 

“Okay, sweetheart. Thank you for telling me.” You kiss him lightly in thanks. Despite how responsive his body is you know you need to check in with him frequently to make sure you’re not pushing him too much or triggering something. Slowly you rise up on your knees, your lips exploring his torso to keep the two of you connected while you swing a leg over his hips to straddle his thighs. You arch up, grasping his heavy cock in your hand to get it right where you need it and then you sink down on to him.

Bucky grasps his duvet so hard it creaks, threatening to tear in both his metal and flesh hands. The tight, wet, heat of your body engulfing his straining erection brings pinpricks of tears to the corner of his eyes. It’s too much and not enough all at once. 

You let yourself settle on top of him, giving you both a moment to adjust to the sensation. You gently unclasp his fists from the sheets, moving them up to your breasts so he can palm and knead them instead. “You good?” you check in one last time before moving.

“Yeah. So good, doll. You’re fucking perfect.” he grits out.

Spurred on by his enthusiastic consent you start grinding your hips against his, getting the friction going slowly so it doesn’t overwhelm either of you right away. He feels like steel inside of you, so incredibly hard and thick. The way he’s responding so easily adds to the heady mix and you’re reeling that this is real life right now. It’s so much better than you ever could have imagined. Bucky’s hands fly down to your hips as you start sliding up and down on his shaft, letting the drag of his cock hit all the right places for you both. It’s incredible, all consuming, and you can tell by his glassy eyes and the sheen of sweat on his brow that it won’t take long to push him over the edge. You take his right hand into yours, unsure of the limits of dexterity in his left, and move it down to the apex of your thighs. Carefully you guide his fingers between your folds, mere inches from where your bodies are joined. 

Bucky’s foggy brain realizes what you’re doing as you rub two of his fingers against the tiny bundle of nerves between your folds. Moving your hand away you let him do the rest, rubbing small circles around the tiny bud as your body shakes in pleasure. This he knows how to do, even as he’s fighting for rational thought at the feel of your body grinding on top of his. Your orgasm builds rapidly, his skilled fingers bringing you quickly to the edge until you’re shuddering and clenching down around him, choked off cries spilling from your lips. Your whole body is shuddering as you come back down from your climax and you increase your pace, helping him chase his own release. It’s barely a minute later that Bucky’s muscles clench up, going perfectly still before his vision whites out and he comes, lost in the hurricane of his own pleasure. Your name is a desperate plea on his lips as he comes, hips locked firmly against yours as they shake. 

You’re painstakingly gentle as you bring him down, making sure you don’t move while he comes back into his body bit by bit. You can see the moment his head clears and his eyes open back up, blearily look up at you like you’ve hung the moon. “Hi.” you say quietly, pressing your lips together to hide your satisfied smirk.

“Hi. Wow.” he mumbles, raking a hand through his sex mussed hair.

“You okay if I hop off?” 

He nods quickly, “Yeah.”

You slide off and the hot gush between your legs reminds you that in your haste you forgot to use protection. You’re never that careless and are immediately thankful you’re on the pill. “We forgot a condom.” you point out with a cringe. “I’m on the pill though. And I’m clean.” you’re quick to assure him.

“I’m clean too. I’m sorry though. Next time we’ll be more careful.” 

“Already planning a next time?” you ask with a smirk. You locate a box of tissues on his nightstand, quickly cleaning your combined releases from your inner thighs. 

Bucky somehow manages to blush brighter, even on top of his flushed cheeks. “I hope so. Maybe in the morning?” 

“Did you just invite me to say the night?”

“If you want to. You can borrow some of my clothes if you do.” 

You look at him, he’s sleepy and sated and the draw of spending a night wrapped up in his arms has you nodding in agreement. “Okay, I’ll stay.” 

“I have nightmares.” Bucky blurts out, embarrassed but needing to warn you.

“I mumble in my sleep.” you tell him with an indifferent shrug. 

“No, really. I might wake you. I really want you here, but if I wake you, just give my shoulder a shake and wake me up.” He’s never been violent waking up, thankfully, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about hurting you, just possibly scaring the shit out of you. He wants to try though, he thinks if anyone will understand and accept him it’ll be you.

“Okay, I will. Let’s get under the covers, you can be the little spoon.” 

“Little spoon?” 

You chuckle, “I’ll show you.” 

The two of you slide under his heavy blankets, the cool sheets soft and slippery against your bare skin. As soon as you’re settled you roll him onto his side facing away from you so you can curl your body around his, an arm thrown over his waist and your head nestled on his shoulder. 

“I like being the little spoon.” he tells you in the darkness.

“Good, now try to get some rest.” you press a kiss to his shoulder and lay quietly until you hear his breathing even out and you allow yourself to drift off.

Sunlight is filtering through the curtains of Bucky’s bedroom, tiny dust motes floating in the air like glitter. You let out a sleepy sigh as Bucky shifts to get more comfortable and he feels momentarily guilty that woke you. Since you’re awake, he rolls over so he can face you, not caring about morning breath after the night you shared. “Morning.” his voice low and sleep hoarse.

“Morning.” you echo sleepily, “You slept well?”

Bucky realizes it’s the first nightmare free night he’s had in years. He can’t remember a single dream and feels rested for the first time in forever. “Yeah. First time in a long time.” He wonders if it was the sex or just having you in bed with him or both. It doesn’t really matter, it was a fucking marvel that he finally made it through the night. He also wonders how he can persuade you to stay over more. 

“I’m glad. I did too.” You lean into Bucky’s hand as it curls through your hair, your brain slowly waking up and still sleep hazy. 

Quiet minutes pass, both of you letting yourselves adjust to being awake slowly. 

“Want to go get breakfast? I don’t have stuff here but the team kitchen is fully stocked. Everyone is probably already up and off for the day.” Bucky offers, finally breaking the comfortable silence.

“Sure, want to grab a shower first though?” You’re feeling a little grimy and a shower will help you wake up more too.

Bucky is quick to agree and shows you to his large walk in shower. It’s heaven on your sore muscles and you take turns washing each other, careful not to start up anything you can’t finish right then. Once you’re clean and dressed in a pair of Bucky’s sweatpants and a tshirt, you follow him down the hall to the team kitchen. It’s huge and Bucky wasn’t exaggerating about it being fully stocked. There are dozens of packages of pre-diced vegetables in the fridge along with bags of shredded cheese and several large flats of eggs. You pull out a little of everything, figuring you can whip up omelettes pretty easily while Bucky starts on making a pot of coffee. 

“Hey Buck!” you hear a friendly voice call out, “No nightmares last night?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says but his tone is awkward. 

“That’s great pal. I’m so happy for you.” 

“Good for you, Barnes.” another male voice chimes in. “So what finally worked?”

You hear Bucky let out a squeak, trying to clear his throat. Not willing to leave him to flounder, you take your arm load of ingredients and shut the large fridge doors with a thump, making your presence known. 

Two sets of eyes, one blue and one brown, snap over to see you standing in the kitchen in Bucky’s clothes, damp hair falling all around you, and the faintest bruise on your throat where Bucky got a little over eager. You have exactly zero shame about the amazing night you’ve just had and your expression makes that abundantly clear. 

Steve’s eyes are saucers and Sam has to cover his laugh with a cough into his hand. 

At seeing your unabashedness Bucky feels the tight panic in his chest loosen a little. It’s going to be okay, and he feels more certain of that than he has in a long time. He feels like he can handle just about anything by your side. With a cocky grin he takes a sip of his coffee and shrugs at his friends, “Looks like you were right, Wilson.” 

~The End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you all enjoyed this as much as I did. Comments make me happy scream so feel free to drop one here or come find me over on Tumblr (@EtherealWaifGoddess) and we can chat.


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